


It's Only Blood (I Have Plenty Left)

by patroklassy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Blood, Death, Kissing, M/M, Sad and Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:59:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patroklassy/pseuds/patroklassy
Summary: Erwin is dying on the battlefield, and Levi, having barely survived his fight with the Beast Titan, manages to drag himself to Erwin's side. They bleed out there, but it's okay, because they have memories of the good life they had together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the song "All is Well (It's Only Blood)" by Radical Face.

His dun white shirt was dark with it. It was black against his skin. The wound was a gaping maw, convulsing wetly; every movement spewed out more black blood.

In his mind he saw the basement. It was shadowy and imprecise, nothing more than the mere suggestion of an entranceway. He saw himself pushing open the door, breath bated, bracing himself for what he may or may not find—

But Levi shut the basement door before he could chance a look, and it wasn’t the basement door at all, but rather the door to his own office. Every time Erwin tried to open the basement door, Levi was there, and it was the door to Erwin’s office, and Levi was shutting it behind himself.   

“You’re bleeding, Erwin.”

_It’s only blood._

“It’s everywhere.” The voice broke. “Can you hear me?”

_It’s only blood._

“I’m bleeding too, Erwin.”

Erwin surged to the surface of consciousness. He had been doing a fine job of drowning; what had called him back?

When his eyes opened he saw it all—calm, thick and red. It was his and Levi’s final project together: this still, sticky ocean of blood.

“Erwin—Erwin—you’re awake.”

#

“I thought you were going to sleep the day away, Erwin.” Levi balanced a silver platter on one hand and held a bunch of wildflowers in the other. He gave Erwin a soft smile. “Feeling old yet? Happy birthday, beau.”

He gazed at Erwin’s sleepy smile for a moment. Erwin was still struggling to sit up, his baggy and worn shirt hanging off one shoulder, rubbing his eyes. In a moment he would stretch, arching his back, and then run his fingers through his hair. Then, finally, he would reach out to Levi and draw him forward for a morning kiss.

When this was done, and Erwin had told him how beautiful the flowers were, and had plucked two free to tuck one behind one of Levi’s ears and the other behind his own, Levi climbed onto the bed beside him and balanced the platter across their laps: hot black tea, fresh cream, berries, and crusty bread with honey.

“You spoil me,” Erwin said, lovingly dashing some cream across Levi’s nose.

“You deserve it,” Levi retorted, returning the favour. “And because it’s your birthday, I won’t kill you for getting crumbs in the bed. I’ll even wash the honey out of the sheets if I have to.”

“Well, in that case—” Erwin rolled on top of Levi, pushing the platter aside as he did so; the tea didn’t spill, and only one honey-drenched slice of bread found its way onto the bedspread. Erwin had cream on his lips and he kissed it onto Levi’s, smiling.

Levi, momentarily indignant about the fate of the bedspread, recovered quickly; cream-kisses from Erwin could heal any wound. He smiled back, almost giddy.

It had taken him weeks to convince Erwin to keep the day of his own birthday free, and even now Hanji was seeing to the duties Erwin felt couldn’t afford to wait a day, but here they were. Here Levi was. Alive, happy. A world away in both environment and mentality from the thug in the Underground, receiving cream-covered kisses from his commander, his friend, his only love.

“I’ve never seen your eyes so bright, Levi—”

#

—nor his smile so big, teeth stained red. It was the blood, Erwin thought, that made Levi’s smile too large for his face; it smeared his lips like lipstick.

“I thought you were going without me,” Levi said, crawling forward on one hand and one knee. Erwin saw that his right hand was gone at the wrist, his left leg mid-thigh. That smile was still on Levi’s face. He crawled until their bodies bumped together, and lay down at Erwin’s side, his head in his lap.

“Don’t worry, Erwin.” Levi’s hand crept across Erwin’s body, seeking the hole in his side, the source of everything pouring out of him. He pressed his hand gently to Erwin’s wound, trying to keep what was left inside. Erwin’s blood pulsed out between his fingers and ran down his wrist like a braided river. “Somebody will come to help us. We’ve just got to hold on a little longer.”

At last, Erwin felt himself capable of speech. His tongue was thick in his mouth, and all he could taste was dust and copper. But he choked out, “Are you . . . in pain?”

He could still recall the fire in his body when he lost his own arm; he felt it again now with his side open to the elements. Levi, he thought, must be in hell.

“Excruciatingly so.” Somehow, Levi’s voice still held its dry humour. “No chance for cream-kisses today.”

“Levi, I—”

#

“—love you. Completely. With all my heart.” Erwin slid the gold band onto Levi’s finger.

“I’m alive because of you, and I live for you, Erwin. I love you.” Levi, too, exchanged a gold band.

There was nobody there, under the moonlight, to witness them. They did not want anybody to witness them; it was their business, and no other’s. They were married in the eyes of each other; the eyes of everybody else were inconsequential. Mike was of the impression the two of them already had a secret adopted family in the countryside. Hanji had been calling them husbands since the day they met in the Underground, much to their early chagrin. Moblit would understand. There was nobody else.

It was snowing gently, tiny flakes driftng into their hair. Levi couldn’t stop smiling at the way they caught in Erwin’s eyebrows.

Here was his husband, tall and handsome, sweet as a peach and fearsome as death, a god—to Levi, at least—among men. He could believe neither his own luck nor his overwhelming love. Whatever ice had been in his heart when he lived beneath the capital, Erwin had long-ago melted with but a single kind glance.

“Time for our first dance?” Erwin asked, holding out his hand. The moon shone on his gold band, sending a thrill through Levi.

And in the darkness, in the snow, with silver light filtering down through wispy clouds, they danced, pressed together, sometimes kissing, sometimes resting their heads on one another. The only sound was their soft breaths, the snap of twigs beneath their boots, the gentle wind carrying the snow.

With his head pressed to Erwin’s chest, Levi could hear his husband’s heartbeat.

#

It was faltering and weak. Erwin could manage only shallow breaths, and he could see that Levi was no better. His skin was a frightening pale; his movements had become feeble.

Where was the survey corps? Were there no survivors?

Erwin tried to lift his head, to turn it to look, but the effort had blackness clouding his eyes.

“Don’t die . . . Erwin . . .” Levi puffed out.

Though he didn’t say it, Erwin was quite sure dying or not was entirely beyond his power to control now.

Levi’s hand was still on his wound, an ineffective flood-bank. His fingers were on Erwin’s bare flesh, on exposed muscle, on fractured bone.

_It’s only blood, Levi._

It should have mattered more, he thought, witnessing his own blood leak out. He should have seen it pulsing past Levi’s fingers and felt fearful, felt desperate not to let anymore go. There were many things Erwin didn’t want to run out of: compassion, ambition, determination to seek the truth, love for Levi. But blood? It was only blood. His soldiers had given theirs freely enough.

He didn’t particularly want to run out of life either, but again, he was not a man to demand what he had asked so many others to offer up.

Still, he said, “I won’t die, Levi.”

#

“You might.”

“It’s just a cold.”

Levi, with his bandana knotted firmly behind his head to cover his mouth and nose, bustled round to Erwin’s side and pulled the blanket up to his chin. “You’ll catch a chill,” he said.

Erwin smiled. “But I already have a cold.”

“I’ve seen people die from ‘just a cold.’” Levi regretted saying it immediately. He hated bringing out that crease between Erwin’s eyebrows, that look of concern and empathy. “I didn’t like any of them, though,” he added quickly. “But rumour has it I like you, so it’s in my best interests to make you better.”

He had put Erwin on a strict course of rest, rest, tea, soup, rest, and rest.

“Sit with me?” Erwin asked, patting the bed. He had a way of looking at Levi with utter vulnerability, a marvel considering his stoicism as commander. But Levi knew a different Erwin from the one the rest of the survey corps knew.

“I’ll even hold your hand,” Levi said, going to the bed. He climbed on beside Erwin, taking his hand as promised. “But if you try to kiss me, I’ll force-feed you some of that gross medicine again.”

Erwin pulled a face, then smiled. “Deal. Though you know,” he continued—

#

“—how much . . . I hate . . . not being able to . . . to kiss you.”

What a thing to say. Any word now might be his last, and he was wasting breath vocalising a woe that, in the present state of affairs, may not have seemed an entirely significant woe.

But this was his husband, and they were both dying, and he had spent a lifetime concentrating on monumental problems, so why not take a moment now to lament the human-sized ones? Like not being able to kiss the love of his life one last time.

It was darker, duller. Was the sun setting? Yes, but his gaze was fogging in at the edges, too. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Levi? Levi—”

For a moment, his breath came in rapid gasps. Then settled, almost stilled.

Levi’s hand left his wound. His fingers pulled themselves free of the blood, quietly accepting the inevitable, and sought Erwin’s hand, clasping it.

“Erwin.”

They had done their duty. They trusted they had done it well. If the titans were a bull, they were the hunters who had sapped its strength and brought it to its knees; all someone else had to do now was step in and deliver the killing blow.

_It was only blood._

#

Just a spot of blood on the pillow, pressed there by his chin after he cut himself shaving the night before, but in the dimness it brought a brief smile to his face, imagining the interrogation Levi would give him about it later. Was he okay? Where had it come from? Why was he bleeding?

He lay in bed in the dark, shivering from the cold, and could think of nothing but Levi. He almost laughed, remembering the private vow he had taken in his youth: never get attached, never let emotions get in the way of logic. But that was before a loyal and sweet-hearted thug had fought him in the Underground.

Now here he was, twisting the wedding band on his finger, turning restlessly in bed, waiting for Levi to return home—waiting to see _if_ Levi would return home—and aching all over from the worry of it.

He woke in the morning to a shadow moving over his eyelids and soft lips pressing to his.

His eyes opened to see Levi’s face bathed in sunlight, tired and worn, but handsome for it and full of joy. “Hey, beau. I made it home.” He frowned a little, his gaze moving to the side of Erwin’s head. “What’s that on your pillow?”

“Nothing. It’s only blood,” Erwin said, and grabbed Levi to pull him onto the bed, wrapping him up in his arm and in the sheets and in the sunlight pouring through a gap in the curtains, setting the two of them in sublime gold.

#

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully the ending came across as appropriately ambiguous - it could be another memory from before they died, or it could be Erwin reaching their happy afterlife just a short while ahead of Levi.


End file.
